


A Foray Into Fornication

by astudyinperiwinkle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinperiwinkle/pseuds/astudyinperiwinkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because if you're between murders, why not get between the sheets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Foray Into Fornication

New as he was to this sort of carnal thing, his wickedly brilliant mind compensated for lack of experience with keen and calculated foresight. He’d twist and writhe to anticipate and intercept my next move. Educated guesses were his forte day to day but some situations call for a more learned individual to take the lead, and from his scattered and premature movements, it was obvious such a leader was not to be him.

Those lean, awkward limbs seemed unable to settle or find comfortable purchase around either myself or the bed. They bent and buckled and folded against me. Taut muscles, deprived of vital nutrients but solid through vigorous, if not amoral, activities were clearly my match but gave way as that too clever mind undoubtedly reached the conclusion that at least in this arena, I was the master. It was a subtle submission but oh, how I relished it!

In fleeting moments, he seemed awash in the automatic responses he felt from the slide of my hand or the pressure of my penetration; a quake along his back, a scrunching of his eyelids, a funny sound which fused discomfort with ecstasy. Make no mistake on my part, I knew he was in total control of his every faculty. Still, such small gestures of enjoyment were monumental tokens of appreciation from him and I was hardly one to ignore such generousity from the man who did not believe in or acknowledge superfluous social niceties.

His hands found the creaking wooden bed frame and grabbed on with straining knuckles. His thin chest reached down to graze the rumpled pillows and pulled back up us he caught on to my cadence. I would always be predictable to him, easily read and summarily understood. That knowledge almost held a sort of solace for me.

“John,” his voice was syrup thick as he swallowed hard. “Twist your hips left as you move forward.”

Ever ready to obey his command without question, I did as he instructed. A couple words tumbled from him but were taken in by the headboard as his head fell against the back of his clenching hand. Not wanting to let him challenge my role as expert, I exaggerated my movements. Less friction, more depth, and of course with a leftward twist. I heard him expel, “Hell!” as the skin across his spine spasmed. I spread his knees wider and took some of his weight from around his hip. My other palm shoved across his skin and grabbed a narrow shoulder to pull his body back when I wanted it to, not when he predicted my rhythm to call for it.

The overwhelming desire to finish was building to a boil in me. Everything from my toes to my face were a-tingle with adrenaline and hormones. There was far more than a simple lubricant slick between us by now. Without thinking, my hand on his hip groped under only to find he had relinquished one fist from the bed frame and was already working himself to climax. One step ahead, as always. I forced my fingers under his and took over the task, refusing to let him be anything but the recipient of physical stimuli. Tonight was about him and whatever he needed I would be the one to provide.

Though there was no gentleness in my assistance, none was needed. Efficiency seemed more his taste in life and in bed. He was not one to require such reaffirmations of love or devotion. I was a colleague and a conscience when the situation arose, but most importantly a friend by his own definition. And as such for him, I knew that bloody extraordinary mind wouldn’t know what to do with a physical offering of tenderness. This evening was happening simply to slake my thirst after a spectacularly ego-bruising dry spell and to help him pass the time between murders. And as he explained, any experimentation he'd gone through in university was one-sided and therefore skewed, and completing the experiment was becoming dusty on his to-do list.

And our impromptu foray into experimentation was coming to an end rather rapidly. Before I could stop myself, I’d twisted and tugged him until the result of his muffled orgasm was spilled warm inside my palm. Distracted by that and the uncharacteristic moan under his breath, I forgot to pull out and spare us both the resulting mess. So I paused when it was over and caught my breath, mindlessly moving my hand up and down him still, unable, it seemed, to stop. It wasn’t until he let go entirely of the headboard and started to ease himself onto the pillows that I relinquished and pulled away.

“Sorry,” I muttered as the extent of our combined mess became evident.

“It’s no bother,” he turned around and the splash of pink on his cheeks was charming on his porcelain complexion. “Thank you, John, that was almost as enjoyable as it was enlightening.”

“Thank you?” I couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly. The sweat soaked sheet served as a makeshift towel and distraction from meeting his gaze directly. “Naturally you’d- well, you’re welcome, I suppose. Thank you, too.”

He sighed deeply and the flush was already fading back to pale. “Would you like something to eat? I’m famished.” He grabbed a box of nicotine patches from the bedside table and peeled himself three new ones.

“I may like to wash first.”

“That’s fine. When you’re done, there should be some left over Chinese in the fridge still, but mind you don’t bump the spores. I’ll take the chow mein cold.” And he closed his eyes.

Unflappable, even after sex. I got up from the bed and headed for the shower.

“Oh, and John?” He called. I turned but his eyes were still closed in repose. “For your reputation more than mine, seeing as half of Scotland Yard reads you, you may like to not put this little adventure down in your blog.”


End file.
